


Employment

by PaperHatCollection



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Black Hat - Freeform, Flug is miserable, In Mention, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:09:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperHatCollection/pseuds/PaperHatCollection
Summary: What's the difference between working for Blackhat, and being enslaved by him?





	Employment

Flug dropped his writing tool- pencil, pen, it could be a quill and he couldn’t tell the difference anymore, rubbing at one of his eyes under the paper bag. 

When was the last time he’d slept?

There were no clocks in the lab. He generally  _ didn’t know _ . Flug breathed out slowly, staring at the papers in front of him. Half finished plans and scribbled out notes spanned every inch of the blueprints. Blackhat had… ‘requested’ Flug upgrade the inventions he already sold in order to ‘celebrate having a new scientist around the labs’. 

Flug was pretty sure it was a way to test him.

He needed a break. However long he’d been pouring over plans and gizmos was really starting to take it’s toll on him. Flug tapped the table a few times before glancing over at the meal Blackhat had brought him- it felt like an hour or two ago, which he still hadn’t touched. It was salad. Not like it would go cold. 

Moving away from the desk, and giving a few stretches to get blood back into his limbs, Flug stood and made his way to the meal. He stumbled as something gave a sharp tug at his ankle, looking back to realize his chain had somehow gotten stuck under the legs of his chair. He took a moment to fix it before returning his attention to the food. 

His only method of telling time was when Blackhat showed up with a new plate of food, taking the old tray and checking up on progress. But Flug was half sure Blackhat was arriving at different times each day just to mess with him. 

He’d been stuck in this lab since Blackhat had first shown up at his work and kidnapped him. Sure, maybe he had dabbled in selling tec to  villains, and maybe he’d earned quite the reputation for his unorthodox-but-useful weapons, but that certainly didn’t mean some demon in a suit could just waltz into the private labs he worked at, kill his co-workers, and drag him off like some kind of prize. 

Than again, when had villains ever taken someone  _ else’s _ feelings into account?

And just like that, he’d been informed he’d be working for Blackhat from now on. His refusal and pleading for his life had only earned him a glimpse into what sort of horrors Blackhat could do without technically  _ killing _ the scientist, and of course, being locked in the lab. 

It wasn’t… too bad, he supposed. The lab had a bathroom to the side, and a bed against the far wall. Right next to where his chain was bolted to the floor. It was a little too convenient. Flug couldn’t help but wonder how many people Blackhat had done this to before. 

Maybe he should be resisting more. Refusing to do his work, to eat. He felt ashamed how easily he had folded to Blackhats demands, when all it had taken was the threat of a little pain. Another sigh escaped him. What was worse, was that he was starting to feel proud of some of his work, when before he’d have been horrified at the sort of devices he’d worked on. Stockholm syndrome, probably. 

He was poking at his salad with his fork, leaning on one hand. He half hoped Blackhat had poisoned the meal. It wasn’t like it was super filling anyway. Just enough to keep him going until the next one. 

He really wasn’t hungry, but he ate anyways. 

If all this wasn’t bad enough, there was one other little detail he was choosing to overlook. With his meal, with every meal Blackhat given him, was a large, sharp kitchen knife. 

There was plenty of other options already in the lab if he wanted to take that option. He could  _ make _ something, something to make it quick and painless. But the knife was a personal little reminder. 

‘You’re not leaving unless you leave here dead’

Flug didn’t want to die.

He only realized his meal was done when his fork clicked against the empty bowl. He was so out of it, he was nearly about to collapse at his desk if he didn’t get some proper rest soon.

He sighed again, slipping his hands under his bag to rub at his eyes. It wasn't like he could get anymore work done when his body was falling asleep on him. He dragged his body up and into the back of the lab, falling onto the bed and curling into a little ball. 

He suddenly didn’t want to sleep. 

Flug rolled onto his back, pulling up his leg, the left one with the cuff, playing with the chain just to hear a noise other than the soft humm of the lab equipment. He never thought he’d be listening to the sound of his own chains for comfort. 

He laughed suddenly, throwing an arm over his goggles. Oh, he was going  _ mad _ , wasn’t he.

“Why me?” he asked no one, his voice breaking into a sob at the end. 

He’d considered escape. But it just… didn’t seem possible. It was a depressing thought, really, that he’d already accepted he was trapped here. The first day he’d been here, he’d attempted to slice through his chain with tools from the lab, only for Blackhat to arrive moments later and knock it from his hand. 

His side hurt a little. He wasn’t sure if it was from the scars, or just from remembering the way Blackhat had dug his claws into Flugs side as punishment, slicing the flesh like butter.

He really didn’t want to sleep now. 

Flug swung his feet off the bed, managing to take a few steps before he nearly stumbled over his own feet (and that stupid chain again), catching himself on the wall. So, he could either collapse, or lay awake in bed thinking about how terrible his life had just become. 

Sometimes, he hated his body. 

He let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands. Maybe he should make something that would put him to sleep. Of course, he wasn’t making  _ anything _ until he got proper rest. God, he was  _ willing _ himself to just calm down and sleep. 

He mentally flicked through the problems caused by sleep loss. He’d  _ die _ if he didn’t sleep for long enough. Wouldn’t that be a way to go, overworking himself to death. 

It occurred to Flug that he was curled up on the floor, laughing to himself. It wasn’t even funny. 

He slowly unraveled himself from the ground, dragging himself back onto the bed. The chain was wrapped around his legs by now, but Flug didn’t care enough to kick himself free. 

_ Hah _ . Free. Good one. 

He was starting to drift off. He’d probably have more nightmares. So far, none of them had been specifically about Blackhat. 

Flug wondered if he’d be offended by that.


End file.
